


Training

by meaninglessblah



Category: Six Realms
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Breathplay, Choking, Dom/sub, Finger Sucking, Light Bondage, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Power Dynamics, Praise Kink, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-07-05 05:51:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15857523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meaninglessblah/pseuds/meaninglessblah
Summary: Blair improves Klauen's training, with some help from their mutual friend Runde.





	Training

**Author's Note:**

> Read their adventures here: http://thesixrealms.tumblr.com/tagged/six%20realms/chrono

Blair shakes his head, but his hands continue working on the braid, completely unfazed as Klauen swallows hard and thick against the saliva that pools in his mouth. “He’s not even trying. Do it again.”

Klauen stifles a moan and opens obediently, wincing as Runde eases the head of his cock past Klauen’s lips. And then again, deeper, as Runde slides into the column of his throat and Klauen’s eyes begin to water.

“Count it,” Blair orders, and Runde does.

Klauen’s throat is spasming, his mind consumed with a mantra, and he forces himself not to give in to the need to gag, to swallow hard and dislodge the obstruction in his throat. Because it’s not going to dislodge, and Klauen has to lie there and bear it. Because that’s what punishments are for.

“Good,” Blair purrs as Runde slides back out. Klauen coughs up saliva, swallowing again as he races to catch his breath. “Now do it again.”

He definitely groans this time, but Klauen tilts his head back off the mattress nonetheless, and preoccupies himself with stretching out his limbs, appreciating the burn of his too-still muscles. He wiggles his hips ever so slightly, not exactly enjoying the cold against his exposed skin.

His knees are hitched up against his bare chest, a small braid of twine binding his two big toes together. His thighs ache and burn from the position, but Klauen doesn’t dare lower them for fear of repercussion. His fingers curl in the sheets under his arse, his wrists connected by a long, loose length of rope. He feels hopelessly exposed, on display for whatever Blair plans on doing with him.

He’s brought back by the sound of Blair’s voice. And gods, there isn’t much he wouldn’t do for that voice.

“Doing better,” Blair assesses, and Klauen isn’t sure if the praise is for him or Runde. Maybe both. “Now start rocking, gently.”

The tip of Runde’s cock slides forwards, impossibly deeper into Klauen’s throat, and Klauen panics. Only briefly, but it’s enough for him to forget about suppressing his gag reflex, and then he’s clenching around Runde’s cock, the sensation of it spurring him to gag again, and again, and again.

“Blair,” Runde breathes, like its taking a lot of effort to remain coherent. “He’s– he’s–”

“I know,” Blair murmurs, closer than before, and when Klauen looks up he can see him standing beside Runde, casting an amused smile down at the Stahldritten, and in that moment Klauen knows he’s fucked.

Runde whines, sliding out until his cock is only just in Klauen’s throat, and the Stahldritten appreciates the opportunity to breathe before Runde goes to push back in.

“Wait,” Blair instructs, and Runde stills immediately. Trepidation knots Klauen’s stomach, but he doesn’t move, his gaze rising to meet Blair’s. He’s smiling again. “You’ve done so much for him already. Let him do the work.”

Klauen’s lashes flutter close as Blair kneels down, his lips a breath away from Klauen’s ear.

“Fuck your throat on his cock,” he instructs slowly, watching Klauen’s hands clench on the sheets. “I want to see how good you can be.”

Klauen moans, but wiggles slightly further up the bed, and arches his throat back over Runde’s cock, feeling it slide into the warm wet of his own mouth. His cheeks feel wet from drool, but he forges onwards, setting a rhythm as he moves up and down, upside down, on Runde’s dick.

Blair is practically humming. “Gorgeous,” he whispers, and Klauen’s body trembles with the praise.

He pushes deeper, forcing himself onto Runde’s cock and holding until he’s out of breath. He lurches back with a loud inhale, letting his head hang free off the bed as Runde trembles beside him.

“Blair,” Runde murmurs, the sound strained and needy. Klauen watches a bead of precum trace the man’s head, his hands twisting in their own bonds in the small of his back. “I need– I can’t–”

Blair presses his lips into the man’s throat, and Klauen feels a swell of jealousy. “You wanted a reward, didn’t you?” he asks, and Runde whines. Blair’s arm winds into the crook of his elbow, guiding him around the bed as Klauen lays, and watches, and doesn’t move. “You wanted to show me how good you could be, didn’t you?”

Runde nods resignedly, knees buckling as Blair pushes him down on the other side of the bed. He leans forward immediately, intimately aware of Blair’s intentions as he licks his lips. Klauen trembles and shifts his hips, uncertain and needy. And then Runde pauses, awaiting instruction, or permission.

Blair straightens, coming back around to where Klauen’s head lays, until Klauen can drink in the full glory of him.

Klauen licks his lips once, choosing words. “Blair, I don’t think–”

“I don’t care,” Blair cuts him off bluntly, “what you want. You’re here for _my_ pleasure, understood?” And Klauen nods sharply. Blair wraps a loose hand around his jaw, barking a single command, “Open.”

Klauen obliges, tilting his head back and jolting when Blair thrusts two long fingers into his throat. He doesn’t need an explanation as his lips close around the digits and begin to suck.

Blair’s gaze rises from Klauen to Runde, kneeling patiently on the other side of the bed. “Now you can begin.”

Runde leans forwards, and Klauen jerks when his tongue lathers the underside of his thigh. His groan is silenced when Blair presses fingers to the back and top of his throat, his eyes watering violently as the sound fades to a moan. Runde is being very attentive, drawing tight circles with his tongue as Klauen tries not to squirm. Blair punctuates each whine with a sharp but shallow jab, forcing Klauen’s throat to work as his reflex kicks in.

When Runde pushes past that tight bundle of muscle, Klauen’s mouth falls open, and Blair makes a particularly violent motion with his fingers that makes Klauen splutter and choke. When he catches his breath, he presses a chaste kiss against Blair’s wet knuckles.

“I’m sorry,” he pledges, wincing at the sensation of Runde withdrawing from him.

“Do better,” Blair retorts, and Klauen opens his jaw just wider than he can comfortably go, pointing his tongue towards the roof as he bares himself for Blair. The lowlord takes interest, probing into his throat with slow, sensory fingers as Klauen holds perfectly still, squeezing his watering eyes shut as he shoves down the urge to gag. “Very good.”

Klauen hums at the praise, his lips curling in the slightest of smiles as Blair slides two fingers into his throat, rubbing digits against the smooth roof of his mouth as they enter.

“You can get up now,” Blair instructs Runde, and Klauen rues the empty cold as Runde withdraws. He rocks back on his heels, rising to his feet to climb to a kneel on the bed between Klauen’s legs. “And remember, slowly.”

Blair pulls his fingers out as Runde lines up, the wet tip of his cock sliding against Klauen’s hole as the highlord draws in a ragged breath. Then he eases in slowly as Blair watches, the friction just light enough to offer them both a consolatory burn as he sheathes himself inside Klauen.

“Fuck,” Klauen whispers after a moment, thighs shuddering. Runde pulls back just as slowly, and Klauen arches to invite him deeper as he pushes back in. He does so again, and again, until Klauen is trembling incessantly. “Fuck, Blair, please–”

Runde thrusts in sharply and quickly, spurring a yelp of surprise and pleasure from Klauen, before resuming his slow and torturous pace. It’s most definitely a warning, but Klauen can’t help but arch against him, begging him to go deeper as words tumble from his lips.

“Please, Blair, please, I can’t–”

Fingers wind through Klauen’s hair and yank his head down, arching off the mattress as far as it will go as Klauen gasps and meets Blair’s cool grey gaze. “You will,” he instructs. “You will endure every second of it, for as long as I see fit to punish you. And if – _if_ I deign to let you come, you will thank me for it profusely. Do you understand?”

Klauen whimpers, nodding infinitesimally as Runde pulls back out at that unbearably slow, torturous pace and slides back in just as gradually. Klauen lets out a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding. “Thank you, Blair,” he murmurs, feeling tears spring to his eyes as Runde’s hips snap against his again, before resuming their regular pace.

Blair’s fingers loosen their hold, trailing softly through Klauen’s hair as he lowers himself into a sit against the bed, watching the highlord wince and whimper. “That’s not so bad, is it?”

“No,” Klauen breathes heavily, and suppresses a sob as Runde’s cock brushes against his prostate. A lazy tingle of pleasure arches up his spine, and Klauen feels like he’ll break from the tension of holding still. “It’s wonderful.”

Blair hums his approval, fingers curling in the tears that line Klauen’s cheeks. “Would you like me to take your mind off it, gorgeous?”

Klauen nods profusely, blinking not-yet-tears from his eyes as he gasps in a ragged breath. Blair smiles and curls a hand around Klauen’s jaw, slipping just slightly lower until he’s caressing the highlord’s throat.

“You remember our signal, yes?” Blair prompts, pausing briefly until Klauen nods. “Good,” he praises, and tightens his grip against Klauen’s carotid.

Klauen gasps and lets his neck go slack, his head lolling as his vision slowly blurs and the black starts to creep in. Distantly, he hears Blair say something to Runde, and then the black is clearing as Blair lifts his hand. Runde’s pace increases, thrumming against that tight spot in Klauen as the highlord cries out softly and sharply.

“Blair, it’s–” he manages, before Blair’s hand is back around his throat and he can’t speak again and the world is a warm fuzzy black that swirls in the edges of his sight. Klauen can feel whenever Runde’s pace increases in increments, wincing as his stomach tenses and tightens impossibly more.

Runde is fairly quick now, no longer dragging out Klauen’s torment. This is worse, somehow, the pressure forcing sobs from Klauen’s lungs as Blair cuts off his air at regular, timed intervals.

“Blair,” Runde grunts, the sound a warning and a plead. “I’m… I’m close. Can I–?”

“Just a little longer,” Blair instructs him, and feels Klauen’s despair beneath them both. Blair tilts his head back to meet Runde’s gaze, a soft smile on his lips. “For me?”

Runde moans, but nods, his eyes fluttering closed as he maintains his quick rhythm. Blair returns to his choking highlord, releasing his throat as Klauen swims back into focus. Every thrust is punctuated with a quiet yelp.

“And what about you, my pet?” he murmurs, tracing Klauen’s protruding artery with a single fingernail. “How are you holding up?”

Klauen’s words tumble forward, crashing like a wave, every word a question. “Can– can I? Please? Blair?”

“What do you want, pet?” Blair whispers, squeezing softly against Klauen’s throat.

Klauen sobs, his fists impossibly tight against the sheets. “I want to come. Please, Blair, please.”

“Will you come for me?” Blair asks, and then Klauen is toppling, his sobs rising to a scream as he drags Runde over with him. Their bodies jerk through their pleasure, Runde’s hips never ceasing as Klauen’s mind goes blank and he drowns under the weight of his climax.

When he finally surfaces, it’s to keen a whine into the crook of Blair’s neck, lips rushed and pleading as they kiss every spare freckle. “Please, Blair,” Klauen pleads, wincing as Runde continues to hit that sweet spot, spurring his drained body into violent jolts. “Please, make him stop, please, I–”

Blair smiles slowly, shakes his head once, and Klauen tosses his head back with a scream that is equal parts frustration and despair, the sound trailing into a string of sobs as his body thrums with the overstimulation and his seams start to split.

He’s begging, but Klauen doesn’t know what words – if any – he’s using as Runde settles into a moderated pace, driving up against that tight spot as Klauen’s body winds impossibly tighter and splits impossibly farther simultaneously.

Then Blair’s hand is around his cock, stroking hard and fast as Klauen screams and arches and rides a razor thin wave over his second orgasm. It’s only when he comes crashing back ashore that Runde stills inside him, and Klauen’s muscles give up the fight.

He’s distantly aware of Runde slumping onto the mattress beside him in a heap, his nose resting against Klauen’s collarbone as Blair presses a kiss to the highlord’s forehead and rises to his feet.

“You’re welcome,” he breathes into the shell of Klauen’s ear, and the highlord lets unconsciousness claim him.


End file.
